The Litabug Phlog

Sam and I went downtown yesterday so I could prepare for another workshop. Amid the masses lumbering up the stairs out of the subway, we looked up and saw a breathtaking sky. The sun had set, and the sky was striped and swirled with color, washing everything in rose. A cool wind swept the clouds into feathers that stroked the buildings, wrapping entirely around the Hancock in a mirrored illusion. The entire crowd of busy people slowed, wide-eyed.

We bend ourselves against bitter winds, stinging rains, glaring sun, and blinding snow to go about our Bostonian business undisturbed. But this we couldn’t ignore.

By the way, it was four-thirty in the afternoon.